


The Fire’s Found a Home in Me

by Leslie_Knope



Series: NHL Draft Rivals AU [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, NHL Player Nursey, NHL Player William "Dex" Poindexter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Knope/pseuds/Leslie_Knope
Summary: Every kid dreams of playing for one team, right? Play a good 15-20 years, win a couple Cups, then come back the year after you retire and watch them lift your jersey into the rafters.Will certainly dreamed of that, at least, the jersey in his head turning to a Bruins one after he got drafted, and now it’s...Well, that’s not going to be the case for him.





	The Fire’s Found a Home in Me

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter, Year Two, is just a collection of snippets from Nursey and Dex's second year in the NHL. The second chapter, coming soon, will be a more traditional story covering their third year.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who loved the first story and inspired this sequel!
> 
> ♥

**Derek:** Did you look at the schedules???  
  
**Will:** No, were they released today?  
  
**Derek:** Same bye weeeeeek  
  
**Will:** Whoa, really? That's awesome  
  
**Derek:** Start ranking your vacation destinations  
  
**Derek:** I wanna go somewhere WARM  
  
**Will:** I will look like a lobster after about 30 minutes  
  
**Derek:** Even better

* * *

Will’s skating off the ice, stretching out his shoulder, when someone smacks into him from behind. The final buzzer just sounded, so it can’t be anything nefarious, but there’s a red and white sleeve wrapped around his waist and he’s pretty sure he knows who it is.

“That’s gonna be a GIF,” he says mildly, and Derek laughs right into his ear. Will goes lax, a little, and lets Derek’s momentum push them forward.

“Good game.”

“Mmm,” he says noncommittally. Montreal won so Will can’t exactly _agree_ , but at least it wasn’t a blowout.

“After, right?”

“Yeah, of course. You get permission?”

“Yep.”

Derek deposits him in front of the Bruins bench, and Will turns to smile at him. “Thanks for the ride.” Derek’s grin turns to a smirk, and Will rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Go away. That’s not what I meant.”

Derek jostles Will’s helmet and starts gliding backward to the away bench. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

Will resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him—because with his luck, that would definitely end up as a picture posted somewhere—and just heads down the tunnel toward the locker room.

He has to do press, which takes a little while, but he finally slips away to shower and get ready to leave. He’s flushed and warm, from the game and the shower and the anticipation, and he downs two and a half bottles of water in an attempt to cool down before he puts his suit on.

The rookies pester him while he gets dressed, excited about some new bar that they’re going to, but Will begs off on going out with them, as casually as he can manage. He likes them, sure, but he and Derek only get a handful of nights together during the season, and as much as he likes the rookies, he’s definitely not wasting one at some random bar that will somehow just make him feel old, even though he’s barely 21.

Will slips out, ready to head for the visiting locker room, but Derek’s already there, leaning against the wall just outside the door and talking to Ransom. He’s wearing a navy suit and a long gray coat, with a beanie pulled half-heartedly over his tousled curls. He looks up, while Will is still processing, and smiles softly. His eyes practically light up, and Will can’t believe, still, that someone as great as Derek actually looks at Will like that, like he thinks Will’s great, too.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Will says dumbly. He talks to Derek all the time, and they FaceTime nearly every day, but it’s still… _startling_ , almost, to see him in person, off the ice, for the first time in almost two months.

“Wow.”

Will startles, and when he tears his gaze away from Derek, Ransom is grinning at them. He points at him. “You. Shut up.”

Ransom laughs and winks at them, and Will rolls his eyes as he brushes past him. “Later, dudes. Have fun.”

He lifts a hand in a wave, and Will offers a distracted wave back over his shoulder as he grabs Derek by the elbow and tows him forward. Derek follows along and bumps their shoulders together. “Hey. You look great.”

Will snorts because that is not the takeaway here. “ _You_ look great. Jesus.”

Derek smiles at him, that little heavy-lidded gaze that Will’s only ever seen directed at him, and he walks faster. Derek laughs but jogs a couple steps to keep up. Will obviously can’t kiss him like he wants to here, in the bowels of TD Garden, but that doesn’t upset him too much if he just…doesn’t think about it.

“So.” Will clears his throat. “Dinner? We could do Italian, or there’s this sushi pl—”

“How about takeout?” Derek interrupts. “I really miss your apartment, you know.”

“You miss my apartment,” Will repeats, and Derek grins, a little too slanted to be genuine.

“Yeah. Obviously.”

Will laughs and ushers Derek out the back door. “Okay. What do you want for food?”

Derek hums. “I could really go for a burrito.”

“Then we’re gonna go get burritos.”

* * *

The elevator ride up to Will’s apartment has definitely never been this slow.

He only lives on the 12th floor, how long could this possibly take? Derek’s leaning against the back wall, hands stuffed in his the pockets of his coats, his elbow touching Will’s, the two of them separated only by a plastic bag of burritos.

At long last the elevator dings, and Will tries not to sprint out of it. Derek crowds up behind him once they reach the door, snickering softly when Will drops the keys. He holds Derek back with one hand while snagging the keys with the other. “You, just—hang on a sec.”

Derek steps back about a centimeter, and Will finally gets the door open. But Derek’s back on him as soon as he has the door open wide enough to slip through, wrenching Will around with a hand on his shoulder. Will tries to kiss back as he pulls them through the door, all the while putting his keys back in his pocket and dropping the takeout bag and tipping the door closed with his foot, lest his neighbors get a free show. Everything takes about twice as long as it should, since kissing Derek doesn’t leave a lot of room for extra brainpower.

It’s frantic for a long minute, hot and searing, and Will has to dart a hand out to keep his entryway table from toppling over when they bump into it. Will crowds Derek against the wall and swipes his thumbs across his cheekbones, slowing the kiss down until it’s deep and lush and practically lazy. Derek’s practically trembling, leaning into him, and Will realizes that the chances of them moving beyond his entryway are basically nil. Especially when Derek’s hand drifts down to his ass, yanking them even closer, and they shrug off their coats.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he mumbles, but Derek catches his lips again, practically before he can get the words out, and keeps kissing him, until they both have to pull away to take a breath, lungs burning.

“Not for food,” he says lowly, and Will groans.

“That was awful. Truly, honestly awful.”

“I know. But you’re gonna blow me anyway,” Derek says, with the confidence of someone who knows that he’s truly right.

“Am I, though?” Will asks anyway, just to be a shit. But his hand has already drifted to Derek’s belt, practically of its own volition, and that probably isn’t proving his point.

“I mean, signs point to yes,” Derek says, as Will’s hands work at his belt.

“Unbutton your shirt.”

Derek heaves a dramatic sigh but does it anyway, his nimble fingers flying down the buttons. “You only want me for my body.”

“It’s not the bad pickup lines, that’s for sure,” Will agrees, then drops to his knees. He unzips Derek’s pants and tugs them down, along with his boxers, to mid-thigh. Will skips the teasing—he really is hungry, for actual food, and an audibly grumbling stomach probably wouldn’t be great for the mood—and just goes for it instead.

Derek groans, this great, strangled noise that gets caught in his throat, and he drops one hand to Will’s hair. “Fuck, you—”

Sometimes Will gets a kick out of figuring out just how fast he can make Derek come, and today is one of those times. He’s pretty good at it, considering that he knows exactly what Derek likes, and especially when he has the advantage of it having been a while since they’ve done this. He hasn’t _actually_ timed it ever, but he’s thought about it. Stats can improve your game.

“Will,” Derek says, breathless, with a frantic tinge to his voice. “Babe, I’m gonna—”

He tugs on Will’s hair, as if he didn’t get the message already, but Will just goes a little faster and tightens his hand. Derek groans again, sharper and higher this time, and Will doesn’t budge as he comes.

It doesn’t taste _great_ or anything, but he doesn’t dislike swallowing the way Derek does, and at least it saves a mess. He pulls back, finally, to heave a breath and swipes the back of his hand over his mouth.

Derek looks great like this, dazed and rumpled and fucked-out, and Will tips forward to press a kiss to his stomach. “I think my knees are broken,” he confesses, his forehead pressed against Derek’s hip, and he can feel Derek shake as he laughs.

“Come up here, then.” Derek grabs him by the shoulders and tugs him up. Will grimaces at the motion, his knees aching, but Derek catches his lips into a kiss, distracting him. Will’s mouth feels unnaturally warm, and kind of buzzy, and Derek’s gentle as he kisses him, sucking his lower lip into his mouth.

Derek sneaks a hand down between them to cup Will’s half-hard dick through his suit pants. “You wanna come now,” he murmurs, “or d’you wanna fuck me later?”

Will thinks about it, kissing back lazily on autopilot. “The second one,” he decides, and Derek laughs.

* * *

Later, after eating and watching a couple episodes of Veep and exchanging another pair of orgasms, Derek climbs into bed next to Will, already yawning. He fiddles with his phone, probably double-checking his alarm, and plugs it in to the charge cord that’s on his side.

He flips over and cuddles close. His feet are _freezing_ , as always, and Will tries to soak it up.

“Love you,” he says quietly, kissing the sharp, broad curve of Derek’s shoulder blade. His arm is wrapped around Derek’s waist, and Derek tugs his hand up to his mouth, pressing a wet kiss to his thumb.

“Love you, too.”

He falls asleep almost immediately, like normal, but it usually takes Will a little bit longer to wind down from the adrenaline high of a game. Everything’s pleasant right now, though, in his cool bedroom with the clock in the hall ticking, with Derek curled up against him, his breath coming out in comfortingly regular puffs, and Will tries to let his mind settle.

Sometimes, in his weakest, most self-pitying moments, he wishes they didn’t play hockey. He wishes that they lived in the same city, that they got to eat dinner together every night, that they did normal shit like to go the grocery store and fall asleep watching Netflix, that they had normal 9-5 jobs that didn’t require Will to check every Habs score with a half-squint, hoping that Derek didn’t end up on the injury list.

But his practical side always reminds him that those thoughts are pointless, that he never would have even _met_ Derek without hockey, that they’re both so lucky to be doing this.

The stolen moments will have to be enough.

* * *

**Will:** Did you get in a fight???  
  
**Will:** I thought your face was too pretty to get punched, you tell me that all the time  
  
**Derek:** Man, that dude is SUCH a dick. He was being awful to Jack  
  
**Derek:** I won, though, didn't I?  
  
**Will:** It was close, but I'll give it to you. You okay?  
  
**Derek:** Just a couple stitches in my lip. Still have all my teeth!  
  
**Will:** Thank god  
  
**Derek:** Was it hot??  
  
**Will:** No. Blood is not hot, Derek, we've been over this  
  
**Derek:** You'd think differently if I was defending your honor  
  
**Will:** Maybe

* * *

“Okay, you ready for your real gift?”

Will gestures to the terrible, tacky Habs tie that’s currently curled loosely around his neck. “You mean this isn’t it?”

Derek grins at him and holds out a small box, wrapped in plain red paper. “C’mon, open it.”

Will leans forward to take the box from him. He’s spending their holiday break in New York with Derek and his moms, since Will’s parents are with his brother in Sweden for World Juniors. It’s not quite the same as being at home, surrounded by his entire crazy family, but it’s nice.

_Really nice_ , he amends, taking in how the lights shadow Derek’s face as they sit next to the Christmas tree. They exchanged a couple gifts earlier that morning with Derek’s moms, mostly small things—including the worst items Derek could find from the Habs team store, apparently—but Will had set his main present aside, and it seems like Derek’s done the same thing.

He holds the gift up to his ear and shakes it, listening for any kind of clue. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should just _open_ it.”

Will carefully slides his thumb under the tape and peels back the paper.

“Oh my god, are you one of _those_ people? How did I not know this about you?”

The paper falls away to reveal a black leather box, and Will shakes it again. “Hmm.”

“Okay, if you don’t fucking open it—”

Derek’s actually starting to look antsy, so Will takes pity on him and opens the box.

His jaw promptly drops. It’s a watch—a very _nice_ watch, one that’s he’s been lusting after for a while now, ever since he decided to maybe become a watch guy and started doing some research.

“Der—” He trails off and shakes his head. “Holy shit. How’d you know this was the one I wanted?”

Derek shrugs. “I saw you looking at them one time on your phone. Then I distracted you with doing something in the kitchen and I stole your phone to see which one it was.”

“Wow,” Will says admiringly. “That’s creepy.”

Derek grins. “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_. This is amazing, I love it.”

“Really? It’s the right one?”

“It’s perfect. Really.” Will lifts it out and puts it on, twisting his wrist this way and that. “How’s it look?”

“Perfect.”

Will reaches for his own small wrapped box, the one he’d tucked behind the nutcracker by the tree, and hands it to Derek. “Now it’s gonna look like I copied you.”

“Did you get me a watch?”

Will shakes his head. “No. Kinda close, though, I guess.”

Derek rips into the wrapping paper with abandon and scrambles to open the box. “Wow, Will, oh my god.”

Will gulps. He debated forever what to get him, and around his tenth _what to get your boyfriend for Christmas_ Google search, he finally thought of an idea. “Do you like them?”

“They’re perfect, I love them. I’m gonna wear them all the time,” Derek promises. “Every game. They’re my new lucky cuff links.”

Will smiles. He figured he’d get Derek something he could actually use, since they have to wear suits all the time. And these are really nice ones, a stylistic silver hockey stick with a black gem that Will’s already forgotten the name of that’s probably supposed to represent the puck.

“What if they _aren’t_ lucky? What if you guys go on a losing streak? You have my permission to stop wearing them then.”

Derek scoffs. “Coming from you? Of course they’re gonna be lucky.”

* * *

**Will:** Sorry I missed your call, we're at team dinner. What's up?  
  
**Derek:** Okay then I need you to send me a pic  
  
**Will:** What?  
  
**Derek:** A pic, Willlll  
  
**Derek:** I'm a little drunk and I wanna jerk off  
  
**Derek:** Pleaseeee  
  
**Derek:** Will?  
  
**Will:** I cannot believe I just did that in a public bathroom  
  
**Will:** I sent em on snap  
  
**Derek:** Thank youuuuu you're so hot  
  
**Derek:** Ok I sent some back  
  
**Derek:** But you should probably wait to look at those til you're alone  
  
**Derek:** Good night!  
  
**Will:** Wow I hate you  
  
**Derek:** Love you too babe

* * *

Cold water drips on Will’s back, startling him out of his doze, and he groans. “Dude. What the hell.”

The words are muffled into his folded arms, so hopefully Derek won’t be able to tell that it was mostly a whine.

“Wake up. I’m bored.”

Will sighs and turns over onto his back, squinting up into the sunshine. Derek is blocking most of it, standing over him with his hands on his hips. He looks good like that, backlit and shirtless, wearing swimming trunks that are just short enough for Will to be momentarily distracted nearly every time he looks at him.

“You’re _bored_? We’re on vacation, you’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“I wanna—wait, when was the last time you put on sunscreen?”

Will smiles. “Like an hour ago. And I’m in mostly the shade. What were you gonna say?”

“I wanna go swim.”

Will blinks at him and gestures, wordless, at the ocean that’s _right there_ , maybe 10 yards from where they’ve set up camp under a cabana.

“In the pool,” Derek clarifies. “I think I saw a jellyfish.”

“I don’t think there are supposed to be jellyfish here.”

“You don’t know that. You know they freak me out.”

“Fine.” Will probably wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep now, anyway. “Let’s go.”

“There’s a swim up bar, I’ll buy you a pina colada.”

Will stands up and stretches, wincing when his back cracks. “I already said I’d come, you don’t have to bribe me.”

Derek slings an arm around his neck and jostles him. “I know. And then a nap.”

“A nap or a _nap_ ,” Will asks, complete with air quotes, and Derek grins.

“Both.”

“Maybe just a quick swim, then,” he suggests, and Derek laughs.

* * *

**Derek:** FLOWERS  
  
**Will:** I know you like them, even if you pretend you don't  
  
**Will:** Happy birthday  
  
**Will:** (And Happy Valentine's Day)  
  
**Derek:** You're the best

* * *

Will’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket while they’re on the bus, on the way from the rink to the hotel. Murph’s talking to him about that turnover they had in the third, though, so Will resists the urge to reach for it and text Derek that he needs a few more minutes. It keeps buzzing against his thigh, incessantly, until he finally gets into his room.

“Hey,” he answers, automatically loosening his tie. “Sorry, I just got back to the room.”

“No problem. You alone?”

“Yeah. Some friend of Mo’s from high school lives here, they’re going out to dinner.”

“So you didn’t just tell him that you needed the room to have phone sex with your boyfriend on his birthday?”

Will snorts and flings himself back onto his bed. He smiles up at the ceiling. “Uh, no, I didn’t.”

“That’s what I woulda told C.”

“Yeah, well, Mo and I aren’t quite as close as you and Chowder,” Will says. He likes Mo and all, and they usually sit next to each other on the bus, but they aren’t besties. Not to the level where he gets to know about Will’s secret boyfriend, that’s for sure.

“Sucks for you,” Derek says cheerfully.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“Of course I’m in a good mood. It’s my birthday, I got the day off, and there’s probably an orgasm in my future.”

“Probably, huh?”

“I mean, I’m just hedging my bets. What do you think?”

“I could probably be convinced.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“It is your birthday, after all.” Will exhales and lets his body sink into the bed. He yawns and kicks off his shoes. “I wish I were there.”

“I wish you were here, too.”

Derek’s voice is soft, and if Will closes his eyes, he can picture him, sprawled out with rumpled pajamas and messy hair. “Where are you?”

“Bed.”

Will hums and adjusts his mental picture. Derek’s sheets are light gray, and they look amazing against his skin.

“Got to watch your game, though,” Derek continues.

“Yeah?”

“You looked really good. So did you score that goal for me?”

He makes his voice all breathy at the end, and Will laughs. “No,” he says, just to be contrary. “It was for, you know, my team.”

“Very funny.” There’s a rustling noise, as if Derek’s moving around in bed. “Are you still wearing your suit?”

Will opens his eyes and looks down at himself. “Yeah. You?”

“My _birthday_ suit,” Derek says, sounding way too proud of himself, and in spite of himself, Will snorts.

“That’s terrible,” he says, and then belatedly, it registers. His mental picture shifts again. “Shit, you’re naked.”

Derek laughs. “Yeah. And I’ve been jacking off the whole time we’ve been talking, so you should probably catch up.”

“Oh, god.” Will obeys, reaching down to palm himself through his pants. “Really?”

Derek just murmurs, a soft considering noise, and Will lets his eyes fall shut again.

“I wish you were here for like, _actual_ birthday sex.”

“Fuck, me—” Will cuts himself off with a groan as he fumbles with his belt and gets his hand into his pants. “Me too.”

Derek’s breath is heavy in his ear, and Will palms himself lazily over his boxers. He’s mostly hard already, and he traces the line of his dick with his thumb through the soft fabric. “Raincheck?” Will asks. “Makeup birthday sex.”

Derek hums. “Yeah. Fuck yeah. You’ll be here in what, two weeks?”

“Twelve days,” Will says. “Not that I’m counting.”

Derek laughs, sort of breathy and curled around a moan. It’s Will’s favorite laugh, the one that he usually only hears when they’re having sex. “Twelve days,” Derek repeats. “I’ll start a countdown.”

“I’ll buy you one of those tear-off calendars.”

Will can _hear_ Derek’s smiles, he swears.

“Oh, yeah? Is that my birthday present? That you’ll be giving me in 12 days?”

“Your birthday present can be whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Yeah.” Will’s fully hard now, already wet at the tip, and he slides his boxers down his hips. It’s a little drier than he’d prefer, ideally, but he has no desire to get up right now to get anything, so he’ll make it work. This probably won’t take that long, anyway, he’s been weirdly keyed up all day. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re gonna want in 12 days.”

Derek groans, the noise low and long and settling in Will’s bones. Will has made a lot of progress in the phone sex area over the past year. It doesn’t come naturally, not really, and he still wouldn’t consider himself _good_ at it, certainly not as good as Derek, but at least he isn’t a fumbling idiot anymore. Since the phone is their main source of communication for over half the year, he considered it a necessary skill to learn.

“I—shit.”

Derek gets more incoherent the closer he gets to coming, and Will smiles a little, biting at his lip. “Are you close? Already?”

“Yeah,” Derek gasps, the word halfway to a whine. “I’ve been—I’ve been ready since I started fucking calling you.”

“Slow down a little,” he says, and Derek groans again, sounding more displeased this time. “C’mon. If I were there, I wouldn’t just jerk you off and let you come in three minutes. Especially on your birthday.”

“No?” Derek asks. His voice sounds clearer, which means that he probably obeyed. He probably has his hand off his dick completely, fisting it in the sheets instead as he tries to hold off.

“Of course not.” Will reaches down and tugs at his balls, gently, before stroking himself again, faster this time. “You deserve better than that.”

“Oh, really?” Derek asks. “Why don’t you tell me what I deserve.”

Will laughs. “Okay, now that sounds like bad porn.”

“Hey,” Derek says, but he’s laughing, too. “What happened to our no judgment rule?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Will says. “You’re right.”

“And so are you, that was terrible.”

Will grins and lets go of his dick to ruck his shirt up. “Are you touching yourself again?”

“ _No_ ,” Derek says, drawing out the word. “Can I?”

“Yeah. Do you have lube?” he asks. Derek makes an affirmative noise, and a few seconds later, Will can hear the slick slide of his hand. “Fuck. That feel good?”

Derek exhales loudly before he speaks. “Yeah. Better if it was your hand. I fucking love your hands. Or your mouth.”

Will arches his hips up into his hand. “Fuck, I would, I’d suck you off.”

“I—” Derek pants into the phone. “Holy shit. You would, you’re so good at it.”

They go pretty much silent after that. Derek comes first, unabashedly loud over the line, and Will can so easily picture the way he would arch up into Will’s hands, his head tipped back as he gasped for breath. “Jesus, Der, I…”

“Twelve days,” Derek says, his voice lazy and low. “I’m gonna fuck you.”

Will exhales, squeezing tighter. “Yeah. We should—let’s do that.”

“I’m gonna suck you off, make you come on me, and then put you on your back and fuck you until you come again.”

Will comes all over his stomach, his mouth open on a silent cry, and releases all the air in his lungs in a heavy whoosh. “Jesus,” he says a few seconds later, still panting, and Derek actually whines.

“Fuck, I miss your dick. And the rest of you.”

Will smiles. “Yeah, me, too. Happy birthday, Der. I love you.”

* * *

**Will:** Pretty thirsty #tbt you posted there  
  
**Derek:** Whatever, dude, you look great in the summer  
  
**Will:** Only in the summer? Ouch

* * *

Will doesn’t let himself think about it too hard. He gets home from his own game and as is his habit, checks in on Derek’s. He reads the recap, studies the box score, and then navigates to the airline app on his phone. Will is still getting used to the fact that he can just drop a thousand dollars on a last-minute plane ticket, but he can.

And since he booked his flight for the ass crack of dawn the following morning, he should probably go to sleep.

* * *

It’s only Will’s deeply-ingrained travel habits that allow him to make his 6:30 flight. Turns out, he can pack a bag, call an Uber, and navigate Logan all while half-asleep, which seems like a useful skill. He falls back asleep as soon as he’s buckled into his seat on the plane, and he jerks awake to the bump of the landing, feeling vaguely less exhausted. A stop at Timmy’s in the airport helps, as does the brisk air that makes him shiver while he stands in the cab line.

They hit some morning rush hour traffic on the way, and Will yawns into his coffee. He’s been watching the highlights of Derek’s games, and he wouldn’t call it a slump, even though he knows Derek would. Sometimes shit just happens—your own goals don’t go in, and other people’s do. Your luck is off exactly when other people’s is on. It doesn’t mean anything, but that’s really easy to say when it isn’t happening to you.

Derek played only a handful of minutes last night, the fewest by far he’s had since he’s been in the league, and Will can only imagine the kind of mood he’s in right now. He has no idea if he’ll be able to do or say anything that will help—he’s betting on _no_ —but literally being there is the least he can do, he figures. He’d want the same if their positions were reversed, and it was that thought that tipped him over the edge last night and convinced him to book the ticket.

He has the cab driver drop him a couple blocks from Derek’s building, near his favorite breakfast place. They don’t usually do take-out, Will discovers, but after he pulls out a clumsy _s’il vous plaît_ and a crisp brown hundred-dollar note, they take pity on him, and he walks out 15 minutes later with a heavy plastic bag that smells amazing.

He detours to the coffee place down the street from Derek’s, but he forgets that it’s a weekday, and therefore the shop is crowded with impatient Canadians who need their caffeine fix before work. Will stands on his toes to see if Bitty’s working, but he can’t see anything through the dozen or so people in front of him.

He settles in to wait instead, checking email on his phone and swiping through the headlines. He’d splurged on the international plan a while ago, thank goodness.

“Will!”

He startles, wondering if someone recognized him under his hat, but Bitty is standing next to the register, waving at him. Will smiles back gratefully and heads toward him. He feels a little bit like a jerk, skipping the line, but not enough _not_ to do it.

“Hey!” Bitty says, once he’s at the counter. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. You aren’t…y’all aren’t in town, are you?”

Will shakes his head. “Nah, just a quick trip for my off day.”

“You’re such a sweetheart.” Bitty produces a small brown bag and a tray with two cups. “Nursey’s latte, a coffee for you, and two cinnamon rolls.”

“You are an angel,” Will says sincerely. He reaches for his wallet, but Bitty shakes his head with a grin.

“Nah, I already put it on Jack’s tab.”

Will laughs as he takes everything out of Bitty’s hands. His hands are too full for a hug now, so he settles for bumping his elbow into Bitty’s arm instead. “Thanks, Bitty. Seriously.”

“No problem. Tell Nursey hello for me, he hasn’t stopped by in a while.”

“Will do.”

Will darts out of the coffee shop before he can register any dirty looks and lugs everything to Derek’s building. He has a key and a fob, so he can get up the elevator to Derek’s floor. He could just let himself in to his apartment, too, but since that seems like a good way to get accidentally murdered by his boyfriend, Will knocks instead.

There’s no immediate answer. It’s still early, maybe around nine, but Derek’s an early riser. He’s probably awake, and Will can just keep knocking until he finally gets pissed off enough to answer the door.

Finally, Will hears footsteps, and he stops knocking. There’s the sound of the deadbolt flipping, and Derek’s muttering under his breath as he opens the door.

“Seriously, what the f—holy shit.”

Derek’s wearing a Maine hoodie, pillow creases deep in one cheek, and Will swallows. “Hello.”

Derek continues to gape at him. “I…what the hell. Are you off today?”

Will nods. “And just optional tomorrow. My flight back is tomorrow night.”

“You’ve never missed an optional practice in your life.”

Will shrugs. “Yeah, well. There’s a first time for everything.” Derek’s still standing in the doorway, and Will shifts his weight. “Can I come in? I don’t want everything to get cold.”

“Oh, fuck.” Derek pulls him in by the elbow and shuts the door behind him. “Yes, obviously. C’mon.”

Derek takes all the food from him, setting it on the little table by the door, and wraps him up in a hug before he can even blink, practically. Will drops his duffel off his shoulder onto the floor and gets both arms up to hug him back. “Hey.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

Will can’t quite read his tone, and he can’t see his expression, since his face is currently buried in Will’s neck. He swallows. “Is that—is it okay? I probably should have called.”

“No,” Derek says quickly. He squeezes harder, as if Will’s in danger of turning around and leaving right now. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

Will snorts. He feels like a shitty boyfriend most of the time—they barely see each other, they don’t get to talk all that often, and oftentimes when they _do_ talk, he’s too tired to do more than just kind of breathe into the phone—but he supposes that they’re in the same boat there.

“You hungry?”

“Yeah. But I should probably, like, take a shower.”

Will leans even closer and makes a show of sniffing him. “You smell fine to me,” he says, and Derek shoves him away, laughing.

“Gross, stop.”

“C’mon, let’s eat. I stopped by that place, your favorite. The one I can’t pronounce.”

Derek’s eyes light up. “Really? Awesome.”

“And I saw Bitty, he gave us cinnamon rolls.”

“Let’s wreck our diets,” Derek says brightly, and Will makes a show of rolling his eyes and nodding.

“The things I do for you,” he says, and it ends up coming out more serious than he intended.

Derek’s smile softens, and he steps close again, hooking his arms around Will’s shoulders. “I know. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

It’s only a while later, while they’re cuddling on the couch, deep into their food comas, when Derek brings it up.

“What if they send me down?”

Will’s jaw drops. He tries to shift back, to see Derek’s face, but he resists. “Oh my god, Derek. They aren’t gonna _send you down_ , what the fuck.”

“They could,” he says mulishly, into Will’s shoulder, and Will squeezes him harder.

“They’re not. I promise.”

“It just—it fucking sucks.”

The words get stuck in Will’s throat. He wants to say _I’m sorry_ , but that doesn’t sound quite right. “You’re Derek Nurse,” he says instead, making his voice as hard as he can. “You’re the fucking _rookie of the year_. This is just a slump, it will be over soon, and a year from now, you’ll have forgotten that this even happened.”

Derek nods into his neck. “Right. Right.”

Will puts his lips against Derek’s hair and wishes that he was better at this.


End file.
